Driving Sucks
by Kiba94
Summary: Tidus is hungry. Frioniel's too busy to take him to the store. Solution? CRACK-FICS, that's what. Could be considered Frioniel bashing. Then again, could be considered Tidus bashing.


**Driving Sucks**

"Frioniel!" I whined, taking care to draw out those last few vowels. "I need something to eat! I don't even liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiike instant food, Frioniel! Frionieeeeeeeel! Why can't you drive meeeeeeeeee?" I pouted.

"Because I'm busy."

"Whhhhyyyyyyyy?"

"Because."

"WHYYYYYYYYYY?" I asked more persistently.

"Tidus!" Obviously irritated, he slammed his hand on the table. "I'm not going to drive you if you're going to be so _annoying!_"

"Roseeeebbuuuuuuuuddddd, it's only gonna take a ! The store isn't that farrrrrrrrrrr!"

"Oh my **GOD**, Tidus, just shut up for a second and let me work!"

"Rooooooossssseeeee—"

"Tidus, I'm not taking you and that's final! You either eat what we have here, or you go and walk to the store!"

"Frioniel, my legs will get tired! I'm busssyyyy!"

"Apparently, not busy enough to stop whining. You're a sports player, Tidus."

"Come on, Rosebud! We're pals, aren't we? We're best buddies!"

"I'm seriously reconsidering it."

"Don't be so meaaaaaannn."

"It's your own fault if you want to whine all the time."

"It's only a minuteeeeeee."

"Then go walk!" He stared resolutely back at his papers, and no matter what I did—poking him, prodding him—he remained steadfastly looking at his work.

Then I had a super bright idea! Why not just take Frioniel's car myself? I mean, it couldn't be _that_ hard to drive, huh? Frioniel even leaves his keys on the desk near the door—I could just go in the car and drop by the store and he wouldn't even notice!

"Frioniel, I'm taking your car to the store!"

"Ha ha. Very funny, Tidus."

"Yeah, I know, I'm a riot, huh?" He huffed angrily, and I stepped out the door.

Frioniel's car was relatively nice looking, for an old guy like him. I popped into the driver's seat and put the key in the ignition. Right. Brakes on the right and gas on the left. Or was it the other way around? I stepped on both at the same time, resulting in an annoying screech. I moved forward just the tiniest bit. OK. I got that done. Now, there was a bunch of weird letters next to the stick shift. I moved it from P to D. Cool, I moved a little! So now, the problem of getting out of the driveway. I slammed on both right and left pedals until I successfully got out of the driveway. Maybe I was actually pretty good at driving! I mean, sure, I hit the tree on the way out, but I tried my best to avoid scratches.

Was that the smell of burning rubber? I'd love to have investigated, but I was obviously not in a good place to do that. You turn the wheel and the car moves, right? So, by CAREFULLY navigating my way through the stop signs, traffic lights, yelling people, sidewalks, stray dogs, buildings, and especially streetlamps, I made it to the store.

A scarfaced guy walked up to the windshield and motioned for me to roll my window down. After several attempts, I managed to, and he looked angrily at me.

"Are you the kid people have been reporting for…" He peeked at his list. "Drunk driving, underage driving, reckless driving, running more than eight traffic lights, theft of a car, and lastly, stupidity?"

"Dah…I wouldn't really know."

"Don't act dumb. Where's your driver's license?"

"Haven't got one." I grinned cheekily.

"Then I'm gonna have to—"

"See ya!" I called, racing down the road. I practically plowed into the store, paid for my food, apologized for the car sticking through their front door, hopped back in the car, avoided weird stares, went back through the _excruciating _process of driving home, evading police cars, and especially those people who were on those crosswalks, like they didn't know I was driving through.

"Frioniel!" I called, putting the car messily back into the driveway and examining it for scratches. Let's see, three on the top, countless ones the bottom, several on the side, eight on the back and five on the other side. Not too shabby. Course, there was always the concern of most of the rubber on the tires being gone (guess that explained the smell), but I think it was alright.

"Tidus, look I—TIDUS!" He yelled, looking at the car. Must've looked bad to him, because he stomped right up to me, hit me over the head, took his keys back, glanced at his car, and promptly fainted.

"It's not too bad." I said when he had recovered.

"NOT TOO BAD—this car was fine when I last saw it and now it's practically in shambles! Plus, the police are here! You ran nineteen stoplights, six stop signs, and—!" He fainted again.

"Look, I'm sorry Frioniel, but this _is _partly your fault. See, if you had just driven me to the store, I wouldn't have to have driven over."

"Tidus…"

"Kid, you're under arrest."

"Oh, well!" I chirped. "Driving sucks, anyways."


End file.
